


Sighs

by Hayato (FoxofPerdition)



Category: Hetalia: Axis Powers, Kingsman (Movies)
Genre: Gen, Harry Hart Lives, and he's done with all of you, scotch is good for the soul
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-10-25
Updated: 2016-10-25
Packaged: 2018-08-24 15:30:43
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,077
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8377492
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/FoxofPerdition/pseuds/Hayato
Summary: A plot bunny come to life because there's nothing else to do in class. An option for how Harry survives.





	

When Harry woke up, there was an encompassing ache in every part of his body, making him sore beyond belief. The smell of antiseptic surrounded him and while his sight was blurry, he could make out a vague shape next to his bed. For a moment he thought it was Eggsy, eyes unfocused, before he squinted and saw curves. The blob twitched slightly when he moved, and sighed deeply. He recognised the put-upon exasperation instantly.

“Mary?”

“Yes, hello.” She paused for a moment, before shoving glasses on his nose. Everything sharpened, and her grimacing face finally came into focus. “Welcome back to the living. Uncle Arthur’s pissed.”

Harry closed his eyes and groaned.

“Fuck."

* * *

 

The official death toll, including subsequent suicides and eventual deaths, rounded up to somewhere around two billion. Most small countries didn’t exist anymore, and large ones had their governments completely decimated. Valentine had been far more deadly than Kingsman had predicted, and no one was holding up well.

At one point, Alfred came in, giving him a once-over. There were stress lines that hadn’t been present a year ago, and his eyes had dimmed to almost grey.

“From what I heard, Iggy’s holding up as well as any other industrial superpower.” He began with, settling heavy into one of the uncomfortable hospital chairs. Harry spared him a glance from where he was shaving. “I mean, some of us were  _ fucked  _ because of population density, but he didn’t get it too bad. London seems to be holding up well.” The agent hummed. He could tell that much from the fact he had little more than a headache; Harry could remember when the Blitzkrieg had happened, and it felt like his heart was being burnt out of his chest.

“How are you? I’m surprised you managed to get here.” His uncle huffed, running a hand over the back of his neck.

“Well, you’re in Washington, kid. Wasn’t too hard.” Harry paused.

“I was attacked in Kentucky.”

“Moved you. Wasn’t much left of that town, sadly.” They both grimaced at their memories. Alfred brightened up a moment later, though, smiling. “But I’m doing alright! I mean, I’m not really, got heartburn and migraines almost constantly, but my government wasn’t too infested, and there’s enough people left to run the place right now. I hate to say this, but thank God for paranoid rednecks.”

“Indeed.” Harry replied dryly. There was a moment of silence, before Alfred cleared his throat. Oh. No.

“What did you do?”

“I did nothing! Jeez.” The blond huffed, “But Mary may have gotten upset and contacted your weird club. And I may have happy-spammed Arthur when you woke up.”

Harry dropped the razor. “ _ What? _ ”

* * *

Mary had, apparently, contacted them after he woke, putting a small flag in the system with a name meant to alert them to his location if he was put out of commission during a mission. He was sure Merlin swore up a storm when he saw it.

“I also took your suit and other weird spy shit and hid it.” She told him as he was silently panicking in the bathroom. “Although I gave you back your glasses. Kinda surprised you haven’t turned them on yet.”

“It hadn’t occurred to me to.” He muttered. She just rolled her eyes.

One of the lens was plain, replaced with a non-Kingsman copy of his prescription. It must have cracked when Valentine shot him. He quietly switched them on, almost sighing in relief when the left side lit up no problem.

“Well, that’s-”

“HARRY _FUCKING_ HART-” He quickly shut them off. Mary was smirking at him. He graciously ignored her.

* * *

When all was said and done, Merlin had yelled at him for at least an hour, and had managed to combine a rant and explanation of the mess that was the aftermath of Kentucky. Harry skirted around talking about his survival as best as he could, and eventually just suggested that Valentine was a poor shot. Merlin seemed too stressed to care beyond relief.

He was to be picked up as soon as possible, since he was (fucking miraculously, what the bleeding fuck, Harry) fully recovered from his injuries. There was a scar where he’d been shot, and his right eye would probably always be slightly blurry, but he was ready to be discharged.

Alfred graciously let him stay in the townhouse the family owned at the edge of the city, going on about how it was sort of useless, but he could be sentimental damnit. Harry ignored the American in favour of putting on his suit, lovingly dry-cleaned and hardly damaged beyond stains that had been removed.

Two jets arrived within the next two days. One held a lower Kingsman operative he thought might be named Laura and Eggsy. Harry was greeted with a punch to the face and ferocious hug. He was stuck between being surprised and proud.

The other jet held his doom.

He arrived a little after the Kingsmen. Had probably planned it, the bastard. He’d never approved of Harry’s choices.

“An’ who the hell are these, Harry?” Eggsy asked when He opened the door with not even a hello, face twisted into a snarl.

“Yes, Harry, who are we?” Arthur grabbed at his scruff, shaking him like he wasn’t almost two millennia old. “And who are  _ you _ , to run off and get yourself killed with your little game?” Harry sighed, long-suffering. “Well, are you going to introduce me? I doubt secrecy matters at this point.”

“Dear boy, this is my father, Arthur Kirkland.” He slid his eyes to the side, grimacing. “He also happens to go by the moniker of the United Kingdom. The others are Alfred Jones, the United States, and his daughter, Mary Smith.” Eggsy blinked, uncomprehending. “Father, this is Gary Unwin. He was one of the recruits for Kingsman.”

“United Kingdom?”

“Please, boy, after some American nearly decimated the human population, are personifications really so far-fetched?” Harry wrenched himself from his father’s grasp, sighing. 

“Why don’t we all go sit in the parlor and talk this out like decent people?” He was summarily ignored as Eggsy, riled up, began to snark back. Alfred joined in for the hell of it, and the blonds were off. It was like watching a globe meeting in the 1900’s. Harry met eyes with Mary, and silently joined her in the kitchen to start the kettle.

Tea couldn’t solve everything, but it’d loosen him up with some scotch added.


End file.
